As dawn broke over Lavendelle, Elara awoke in her small room at the inn, her mind racing with images from the night before. The ghostly apparition of Lady Isabelle, the whispered plea for help—it all felt like a dream, yet the chill she’d felt down to her bones had been real. She couldn’t shake the vision of Isabelle’s face, her sad eyes burning with unspoken words.


Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Elara returned to the chateau that morning. The air felt different as she entered, as if the walls themselves had been awakened by her discovery of the letters. Her footsteps echoed through the vast, empty halls as she made her way to the hidden room in the library. It was there, amidst the dust and decay, that she felt closest to Isabelle and Laurent.


In the dim light, Elara examined the room more carefully, searching for any other clue that might complete the story. She lifted a faded tapestry, and a strange carving in the stone wall caught her eye. It was a heart, carved meticulously with the initials I and L intertwined within it, almost hidden under layers of dust. A surge of emotion swept over her—this room had been their secret sanctuary, a place where they could express their love beyond society’s prying eyes.


Beside the carving was a wooden chest, ornately decorated but nearly disintegrating from age. With a gentle pull, she managed to open it, revealing yet another stack of letters. These, however, were different. Written in hurried, frantic handwriting, they seemed to be Isabelle’s responses to Laurent. The words spoke of love, fear, and desperation. One letter, dated just days before her disappearance, caught her attention:


My dearest Laurent, they are closing in. I fear they know of our plans. Father has grown cold, and he watches me like a hawk. I cannot leave without you. I will wait by the river at midnight. If you do not come, I shall know it was never meant to be.


Elara’s pulse quickened. These letters revealed a side of Isabelle that history had buried—a woman torn between duty and love, willing to risk everything for a chance at happiness. But the letters also confirmed her worst fear: Isabelle’s own family had sought to separate them, casting a shadow over the noble de Roselle name.


As Elara reached the final letter, she felt a presence at her back. She turned quickly, but the room was empty. Just her, the letters, and the lingering chill. But then, a single page from the letter stack lifted, hovering slightly before settling back down, as if a hand had touched it.


That night, Elara decided to return to the river. She felt compelled to retrace Isabelle’s steps, to seek answers in the place where their love had met its tragic end. As she arrived at the riverbank, the moonlight illuminated the scene with an ethereal glow. She knelt down by the ancient oak,